


She Knows What I Think About

by villaingotyourcat



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Professor AU, and there was only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28294746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/villaingotyourcat/pseuds/villaingotyourcat
Summary: They are enemies, as much as two professors at a prestigious university teaching in two separate departments can be.
Relationships: Luisa Alver/Rose Solano
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	She Knows What I Think About

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aparticularbandit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aparticularbandit/gifts).



Luisa is an optimist. 

She’d chosen to see the latest mandatory conference for higher education as a fun little getaway rather than a missed weekend of summer vacation. She hadn’t complained about the five hour drive spent crushed in the backseat between two other professors. She’d waited patiently as the registration desk searched for her missing paperwork and when her name was misspelled on her lanyards and when they’d run out folding chairs. She’d even assured the hotel receptionist that she didn’t mind waiting an extra hour for her room to be cleaned, smiling politely at her colleagues as the lobby emptied. But this? 

“What do you mean there’s been a mistake,” Rose hisses. 

The receptionist glances uneasily between Rose and Luisa. “Unfortunately, it seems Room 231 has been double-booked for the next two nights.”

Rose pins the receptionist in place with her signature icy stare, an expression that keeps class after class fighting to stay out of Professor Ruvelle’s classes. At best, they’re weed-out classes designed to separate the good from the best. At worst, they’re fifteen weeks of torture designed to stamp out every spark of passion one might have for constitutional law. 

Frankly, Rose’s teaching style is an abomination. She is every mean professor Luisa has ever had rolled into one unfortunately attractive woman in perfectly tailored suits. With unpredictable exams and strict grading, she boasts the highest fail rate of any professor in the law department.

Luisa’s classes are the complete opposite. Her lower level biology classes could easily be weed-out classes, and many of her colleagues treat them as such. Instead, Luisa uses her classes to spark her students’ interest in science and medicine. Every semester, her classes are among the first in the department to fill, and her course evaluation scores are consistently high.

Luisa has made no secret of her disdain for Rose and her classes. At every opportunity, she criticizes Rose’s grading system and harsh demeanor both publicly and privately. The feeling is mutual. Rose thinks Luisa is far too lenient, that her students do not deserve the grades they receive. They are enemies, as much as two professors at a prestigious university teaching in two separate departments can be.

Luisa prides herself on her immunity to Rose’s glare, but she’s seriously getting concerned that Rose is going to strangle the receptionist if she doesn’t intervene. 

“Is there another room available? I don’t mind paying extra.”

“The hotel is fully booked for the conference.”

Rose is seething. “So what? We’re just supposed to roll over and let you force us into a room together? What if she’s a secret crime lord? Are you going to pay my funeral bills?”

The receptionist might have said something, but she’s background noise now. There is only her pent-up anger and Rose’s stupidly pretty hair. 

“Oh, please. If one of us is going to be a crime lord, it’s obviously you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m not the one shouting in a hotel lobby at one in morning!”

“You’re literally shouting right now!”

“I’m not shouting, I just raised my voice a little to convey some emotion. You’ve heard of emotion, haven’t you?”

“At least I don’t cry while teaching a unit on childbirth.”

“I refuse to be ashamed of crying over the miracle of life. It’s a beautiful thing!”

Rose turns on her heel to face the receptionist. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”

The receptionist smiles weakly. “I can offer you a voucher for a complimentary breakfast?”

\--

The elevator ride to the third floor is tense. Rose stands stiffly in the far left corner of the elevator, her purse delicately balanced on top of a single, sleek suitcase. In the right corner, Luisa shifts her backpack from shoulder to shoulders, studying the pictures plastered on the doors a little too intently. It’s easier than focusing on the set of Rose’s jaw, her smooth skin that is somehow still glowing in the fluorescent elevator light. 

When the doors open, Luisa follows Rose to the end of the hall, nearly colliding with her when she freezes in the doorway. Luisa’s seconds away from another snarky comment until she follows Rose’s gaze to the single queen bed in the center of the room. Aside from two small nightstands and a television resting on top of the dresser, it is the only thing in the room. 

Rose mutters something under her breath too low to be heard and dumps her suitcase on the only luggage stand before heading into the bathroom. The slam of the door echoes off the faded walls. There goes the idea of talking it out. 

So Luisa’s a little irritated. Sure she loathes Rose and all, but it’s only two nights, and she’s generally a considerate roommate. She thinks for a moment of asking Rose which side she sleeps on before deciding against it. If Rose wants to be hostile and hog the bathroom, she’ll take the right side of the bed for herself and won’t waste time feeling bad about it. 

After flipping past the news channels, she settles on a cheesy romcom before digging into her bag of snacks. She’s half way through a bag of pretzels when Rose emerges, and she promptly starts choking on a particularly sharp piece. This could be it, she thinks, college professor chokes to death on a hard pretzel while ogling her sexy coworker whom she definitely hates. It’s a bit long for the papers. Whatever. They’ll work out the logistics. 

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Rose’s voice is thick with sarcasm. Maybe she’s imagined it, but Rose almost sounds pleased.

Luisa grabs her phone from the nightstand and opens the camera, switching the flash on. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

Luisa takes a few pictures as Rose crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “Taking your advice.”

“It’s an expression. Delete those.”

“No.”

“Luisa.”

“Professor Ruvelle.”

Rose’s eyes flash. It’s almost too easy. She’s spent the past five years honing her skills, and the payoff has been worth every second. She knows exactly how to push all of Rose’s buttons, how to poke holes in the facade that Rose hides behind. It’s a dangerous game to play, but Luisa’s always been a little too reckless for her own good. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? Does it turn you on?”

Rose flushes brilliantly. “Luisa.”

“Your lack of response speaks volumes.”

“I am not discussing this with you.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t kink shame. This is a safe space.”

Rose’s mouth opens and closes again. Luisa knows even now that she will turn herself inside out wondering what Rose was going to say. If money could buy thoughts, Rose would have bled her dry years ago. 

“What are you going to do with them?”

“Post them anonymously on the community board,” Luisa says, a bluff she dares Rose to see through.

“I’ll report you.”

Rose is climbing onto the bed now, and it’s a fight to appear unaffected. Her muscles shift just beneath her skin, and the visual is far better than any images Luisa has managed to conjure up so far. She smells like hotel shampoo and coconut oil. The bed feels much smaller than it did five minutes ago. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Give me one reason why not.”

“You’d miss me too much. We have fun hating each other, don’t we?”

“I have nothing but professional dislike for you.”

Rose’s lingering glance says otherwise. Her posture is far too stiff to be natural; she’s sitting perfectly upright with a single extra firm pillow tucked behind her back with her attention fixed on the television, except when she thinks Luisa isn’t looking. Luisa watches as the movie plays out in Rose’s eyes.

“Professional dislike? So how are you feeling about me right now?”

Rose finally turns to her. “Like I want to slap you.”

“Is that really what you want?” Luisa’s voice drops an octave.

“Yes.”

“We aren’t in the classroom. You can drop the act.”

“The act?”

“You’ve never thought about it?”

“Thought about what?”

Her feigned ignorance would be endearing if it was more believable. Maybe the act is just as much for Rose as it for Luisa, a thought that makes Luisa burn. Why must there always be pretense? Why is it not enough for Rose to want her for the sake of wanting?

“You are many things, Professor Ruvelle, but dumb is not one of them.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Make me.”

She won’t make the first move. It has to be Rose, Rose has to come to her. She won’t let Rose claim unwilling participation. She refuses to be just a temporary lapse in judgement. She’s been a mistake in too many other lives to want it from Rose.

Rose’s eyes flicker to her lips, but she remains perfectly still. The moment stretches, and Luisa braces herself for the sting of rejection, but it doesn’t come. 

“I don’t put out on the first date,” Rose says finally, and her voice shakes a bit on the last syllable.

“Good thing we’re booked for two nights.”


End file.
